Beating the Disease § TEMPERANCE

🏥 BEATING THE DISEASE 🏥 I remember it just like yesterday, Pain ripping aches, Vomiting in a pan for weeks. Sweat soaked blankets tangled round my legs, Fighting with an itch scratching at my chest, Every hour sober felt like holding my own breath, I wanna dig into that itch but it'll fuck up everything. (Just one little hit to take the edge off…) WAIT FUCK NO! Then this is all just a wash, All the vomiting till I saw blood, Hell no… not giving up… (We’ll see son…) I'm glad I went through that, Pulled myself outta that opaque grey trap, I'm still alive to theorize how my life is gonna be, But as hard as I try I still feel sometimes… Shadow hanging tall in the corner of the sink, Breathing when I breathe like it’s mimicking me, Vomit round its mouth, Crack stains round its teeth, Oil pools for eyes… horrifically wide… Leering. “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MEEEEEEE!” Can't take it, Seeing shit again, Just like when, I was puking up all that shit, DRUG FREE! WITH SOMETHING FOLLOWING! SOME-THING -- FOLLOWING! (SOMETHING FUCKING FOLLOWING MEEEEEE!) Reached into my skin, Ripped out the disease, I was injecting in. Withdrawal for weeks, Tied myself to my bed, Friends checked on me, but recoiled at my demons! (“just sleep…”) (“you already did…”) (“Open the damn door!”) Can't shake it, Has it always been? Ever since then, Something's been whispering to me, Just wake up, this can't be… RUNNING CLEAN! WITH THIS THING HUNTING ME! HUNTING ME! (SOMETHING FUCKING HUNTING MEEEEEE!) I can't grasp what happened next, My present and my past, Seem to be walking in tandem. I just don't understand, what is happening… (“You gotta wake up to your new reality…”) Standing before me, head hanging, blood slowly drips, It spits. Before I can say shit, I wake back up in my bed. [Instrumental Break] (“He’s not responding…”) (“Check his pulse again…”) (“Oh God…”) I feel the threads of reality pulling… The pendulum of time stop ticking, Staring into the dead pearled eyes of me. A fly landing in my eye, crawled down the side of my face… (“Yeah, I think he's awake, finally.”) We remember them not by the disease, but by the light they brought into our lives… Didn't make it out of that night, yeah, that sounds about right. All that purpose, all that fight, It's collecting flies. Now I'm lost in a forever sleep, Guess my addiction ate everything, Laid to rest in a meth casket, (No point to continue improving.) Reached into my skin, Ripped at my soul, Rotted out, by injections! Lost in the god, of brain fog, for weeks! Body rot stenching around me! Tied myself to a corpse, Maggots eating what’s left! And that, that thing, silently watching me? Oil for eyes, chalk for skin, Must be… the last remnants, of my disease finally dying…